


young and beautiful

by raggedypond



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Old Age, Pain, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-08-26
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:15:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raggedypond/pseuds/raggedypond
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	young and beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Lana del Ray's song

The wind is playing with her blond hair, twisting it, swirling it, clutching at random locks, making it fall in her face. The Doctor loves her hair – the colour of molten gold in the sunshine, the scent of shampoo and Rose. He loves running his fingers through it: its softness when he touches it is more than comforting. Another thing he loves is watching it sway in the wind, like a flag of sunshine, and hearing Rose’s laughter as it tickles her face. 

The two of them are sitting on the grass and she is wearing her yellow sundress that he so much adores. It clings to her body, embraces her curves and brings out the brown of her eyes. Whenever she’s wearing this dress, the Doctor is beaming. She shifts and lies down, her eyes observing the clouds overheads. The sky is the colour of a mountain spring, pure and celestial, and a bright and warm sun is poking through a ball of fluffy blanket-white clouds. 

“Look, Doctor,” she stretches her arm and points at one of the weirdly-shaped clouds. He follows her finger and frowns at the sky. He’s never quite got the human concept of naming cloudshapes but still he looks up and does his best to find a resemblance. 

“It looks like Cassandra!” Rose laughs and the melodic notes of her laughter pour out of her full lips like a cheerful tune and make a smile curl his lips. He loves her laughter, too. His hearts beat faster and butterflies flutter in his stomach. The cloud looks nothing like Cassandra, he thinks.

“Moisturize me,” he imitates Cassandra’s voice, and Rose’s sweet laughter rings in the air. He can taste its sweetness, he can smell its fragrance, he can touch it and its silk-like softness. Lying down net to Rose, he reaches for her hand. Her fingers lace through his and he squeezes. In the tranquility of the summer afternoon, he finally makes the acquaintance of happiness. 

Among the grass, she moves closer to him and rests her head on his chest. The beat of his hearts is like a peaceful, calming lullaby. Rose buries her face in his suit and breathes him in; he wraps his arm around her and her legs tangle around his. There, among all the greenness, a girl in a yellow dress and a man in a brown suit are curled up in each other, clinging on to each other, memorizing every inch of each other while they still can. 

He will remember the vanilla-and-cinnamon perfume. He will remember the raspberry shampoo and the touch of her skin against his and her hair tickling his face. The blonde locks all over his chin and nose, and her every move against him. Her sweaty palm pressed to his and their fingers entwined and their breaths synched. 

They stay there for God knows how long, savouring in each other’s embrace, feeling the summer wind on their faces.

“Oh, God, I love you so,” he whispers in her ear. His words caress her skin, they tickle, they burn, they reach her heart and squeeze it painfully. She looks up. Brown eyes lock on brown eyes and the world stops. There’s no wind blowing and the distant noises of humans leaving their marks upon the Earth aren’t there. 

All that exists in the whole universe is two pairs of brown eyes, staring lovingly. 

“I love you too,” she says in her soft, melodic voice, and his face lights up.

She jumps up on her feet and she twirls, the yellow sundress spinning above her knees. A joyous laughter escapes his lips as he lies propped up on his elbows and watches her. A diamond smile is shining on her face, her eyes beaming, her teeth showing and she throws her head back laughing. This is what he lives for.

“You are so, so beautiful, Rose Tyler,” the Doctor says. 

This, somehow, makes her feel sad. She sits on the grass next to him and finds his hand. She squeezes.

“Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful?” Rose asks and her voice is drowned in sadness. He wants to kiss her. Right now. Hard. On the lips. But he doesn’t.

He sits up and takes her face in his hands. 

“What do you mean?”

“I… We, humans… We grow old, Doctor,” Rose avoids looking into his eyes. “We change. Our bodies. Our faces. We grow old and we wither, and turn to dust.”

He laughs.

“I change, too, Rose. My face – and my body, you know that.”

“But I’ll grow old,” her eyes finally meet his. “My face will not be pretty anymore.”

“Oh, Rose Tyler,” a sad smile fights its way on the Doctor’s face. “I love you for so much more than your face.”

He leans down and places a gentle kiss on her forehead.

*** 

He’s been looking for her for so long. Years. Decades. Centuries. Looking for a way to get to her universe. And he’s finally succeeded. Just a glimpse, just a chance to see her for a few minutes. He knows that things will never be the same, that he will never be able to take her in the TARDIS again. But he will see her and that’s enough for him.

She stands in front of him, pools of tears forming in her eyes.

“Is this you?” she whispers. “Is this really you?”

Her hair is grey now, the colour of pigeon feathers, brushing her waist. Wrinkles, like riverbeds, are covering her face. Her eyes, however, haven’t lost the sparkle. 

The Doctor nods. There’s sadness in his eyes, and the weight of all he’s seen and done. It’s easier for her to see it, after so many years. 

“You’ve changed,” Rose says in her melodic voice, “but I knew you right away.”

She shakes her head slightly and her lips curl in a smile. Her liver-spotted hands reach out for his young, white fingers. The Doctor wraps his hands around hers and squeeze reassuringly. She’s changed, too, but he can recognise her. She’s his Rose and he knows it.

He leans in and whispers in her ear.

“I knew you right away, too, Rose Tyler,” he says. He hears her catch her breath. 

“It’s been so long,” she says. Her voice is different, her scent, her smile. Everything but her touch. When her skin touches his, he feels home. He feels like he’s found a missing part. Finally, after all this time, he is complete again. 

“I can't stay, Rose.”

It’s breaking his hearts to say it. He knows her heart is breaking, too. He cannot do anything to change it. But he can make it hurt less. This is the last time he’s seeing her, the Doctor knows it. 

So he does his best. 

“I’m so, so glad I met you, Rose Tyler.” 

A whisper. A tear is rolling down her cheek, a lone tear, flowing through a riverbed. Don’t, she says silently. It’s a pain that cannot be described. 

“Me too,” Rose whispers back. Fingers entwined. A memory recreated. Hearts broken. 

Brown eyes lock on green. A last squeeze, a last smile. Rose closes her eyes. The Doctor cups her cheek. 

“Oh, Rose Tyler,” a sad smile fights its way on the Doctor’s face. “I love you for so much more than your face.”

He leans down and places a gentle kiss on her forehead.

The Doctor dissolves into thin air, leaving her all alone. On a beach. His touch lingers on her cheek, his lips linger on her skin. 

And Rose Tyler remembers him until the day she dies. Because he loved her even when she was no longer young and beautiful.


End file.
